


The truth about love (comes at 3 AM)

by Finduilas



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cliche, Derek and Isaac big brother feels, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Pack Feels, Pining, So many cliches, Truth or Dare, background Lydia/Jackson, background Scott/Allison, hints to unrequited Isaac/Scott, teenagers being teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 09:57:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finduilas/pseuds/Finduilas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the pack gets locked in at Derek’s new loft during a snowstorm, they play ‘truth or dare’ to pass the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The truth about love (comes at 3 AM)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BFive0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BFive0/gifts), [space](https://archiveofourown.org/users/space/gifts), [burnedphoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnedphoenix/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [Правда о любви (всплывает в три утра)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2661179) by [Black_Mamba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Mamba/pseuds/Black_Mamba)



> Many thanks to Bubbles, Space, and Burned Phoenix for the brainstorm. Thank you for coming up with so many great ideas!  
> Beta’d by Space, who also came up with the title. (by P!nk)
> 
> Edit: Check out the amazing gif set Bubbles made for this fic: [Here!](http://tryingtoextendyourlife.tumblr.com/post/44646266721/fics-in-gif-the-truth-about-love-comes-at-3)
> 
> [Artwork based on this fic](http://finduilasclln.tumblr.com/post/73823693471/xkxdx-for-finduilasclln-who-bid-and-won-my) by XKXDX!

“No, of course not,” Stiles tells his father over the phone as he sighs. “But it isn’t  _that_  bad.”   
  
“It’s a snow storm, Stiles,” Derek can hear Stiles’ father say over the other end of the line, and his voice doesn’t leave any room for discussion.   
  
“Yeah, but…” Stiles starts, feebly.   
  
“No buts,” the sheriff says, and Stiles ducks his head in defeat. “Please, Stiles, just for once do what I tell you. The roads are too dangerous right now. Just stay over at Scott’s tonight so I know you’ll be safe.”   
  
Derek can hear Stiles falter for a second as he takes in the surroundings of Derek’s loft, obviously uncomfortable with the lie he told his father.   
  
“Yeah, okay,” Stiles finally says with a nod – as if his father can see it. “I’ll stay here. I’ll call you in the morning, yeah?”   
  
Derek is standing by the window, looking out as the last splashes of color are covered up by the snow, when Stiles pockets his phone and tells the group, “I guess that’s that then. The last of the worried parents to call and tell us not to go out in the snow storm.”   
  
Derek huffs.   
  
“Sorry, man,” Stiles says, shrugging at him. “I guess we’re stuck here.”   
  
“I could totally go home,” Scott says, seemingly reluctant to spend the night at Derek’s, despite the careful truce they’ve established over the last few months.   
  
“And leave me here? No way, dude!” Stiles calls out. “If I’m stuck here all night, so are you!”   
  
“Does anyone even wonder if I’ll actually  _let_  you all stay?” Derek mumbles, not expecting an answer. Isaac grins at him anyway.   
  
“I could run home, no problem,” Scott mutters, like a petulant child.   
  
“And leave  _me_  here?” Allison asks, shooting Stiles a look.   
  
That settles the argument quite quickly, as Scott throws his arm around Allison’s shoulder.   
  
“Nobody’s going anywhere,” Erica says breezily as she plops down on the big couch in the middle of the living room, propping her feet up on the coffee table.   
  
Derek wants to protest, really he does, but then Lydia cuts him off.   
  
“Who orders a meeting without checking the weather report first anyway?” she raises her eyebrows at him from where she’s standing by the radiator, soaking in the warmth.   
  
Derek sighs, because who argues with Lydia anyway? He grabs a book off one of the shelves before settling himself into the comfy chair in the corner of the living room. He has a view out the window, where he can see the snow trickle down without pause.   
  
“Fine,” he says, not even bothering to look up at the gathering of teenagers filling his living room. “Just don’t break anything, and… behave.”   
  
There are multiple simultaneous snorts, the loudest of which is Stiles, and Derek just knows he’ll regret this. A lot.   
  
***  
  
“How do you not have a TV?” Jackson asks about fifteen minutes later – Derek is still on the same freaking page in his book – when everyone’s finally settled in on the couch, the chairs, and cushions on the floor.   
  
Boyd comes back from the kitchen to throw more bags of potato chips at the group, ones that Derek didn’t even know he had. But then again, his Betas are constantly stashing food in his new loft. And Derek lets them, because as much as he’ll never ever admit it – not even under duress – he actually quite likes the fact that his loft has become the gathering place for the pack, that his Betas (and even the humans) are treating it as a second home.   
  
Then he sees Stiles wiping his Cheeto-dusted fingers off on one of the couch cushions and Derek wonders if maybe he’s finally gone off the deep end, actually wanting this bunch in his personal space.   
  
“What are we even supposed to do to pass the time?” Jackson continues whining, because apparently he can’t live without his precious television for one single evening.   
  
“Are you kidding me?” Erica asks, “We’re a bunch of teenagers with no parents in the house…” – and no, Derek does  _not_  want to acknowledge the fact that about half the group just looked at him. He is  _not_  a damn parent – “We should totally play Truth or Dare!”  
  
There are groans and cheers rising up from the pack.   
  
“Derek?” Stiles asks, and he actually looks hopeful.   
  
But Derek just raises his eyebrow at him in what he hopes is a threatening manner, even though Stiles just laughs and says, “I’ll take that as a no.”   
  
Derek just sags a little deeper into his chair, fingers gripping the open book on his lap a little tighter.   
  
Since Erica came up with the idea, it apparently means she gets the go first.   
  
“Boyd,” she grins, who promptly picks, “Truth.”   
  
“What was your last dirty dream?” Erica asks without so much as hesitation.   
  
“Whoa, right to the good stuff!” Scott calls out while the others whoop and laugh.   
  
“Like, what?” Boyd asks, actually grinning, “In detail?”   
  
“Well, you gotta give us something at least,” Erica says, shoving her bare foot into Boyd’s thigh.   
  
“Huh…” Boyd says, looking around the group as if he’s gauging how blunt he can be. “Okay, well… It was nothing special, really. Just… I was in the shower, getting a blowjob.”   
  
He shrugs as if to indicate the end of his story.  
  
“When?” Isaac asks, receiving a big grin from Erica.   
  
“Jeesh… last night, alright?” Boyd says, and even though he’s trying not to show it, Derek can tell he’s a little bit flustered.   
  
“Who were you thinking of, giving you the blowjob?” Jackson asks, who’s sitting on the edge of the couch, with Lydia pressed up against him.   
  
“Nobody specific, actually,” Boyd says, “Just, any girl, I guess.”  
  
“Did you wake up with sticky sheets?” Stiles asks, his grin so wide Derek thinks he might strain his face.   
  
“Very sticky,” Boyd says, then slapping his hands on his thighs. “Is it my turn now?”   
  
***  
  
“I shouldn’t have gone for ‘dare’, Scott groans, eyeing the carton of unidentified food in his hand. He looks at Boyd, “You’re evil.”   
  
Boyd just shrugs happily.   
  
“That’s been there since forever,” Isaac squints his face, “I think it came with the fridge or something. That’s just… disgusting.”   
  
“You can always chicken out and strip,” Allison says matter-of-factly.   
  
Scott just keeps staring at the carton in his hand, like it’s going to move any second now.   
  
“Excuse me?” Derek asks, because  _strip_? Seriously?   
  
“Have you never played truth or dare when you were young, Derek?” Lydia asks, and Derek bites back a comment because he still  _is_  young, dammit. “If you lie, or refuse a dare, you have to remove an article of clothing. Those are the rules.”   
  
“I don’t know if they’re the official rules, per se,” Stiles interjects.   
  
“They’re  _our_  rules,” Lydia says, as Scott is swallowing around a lump in his throat.   
  
“I’m not chickening out!” Scott declares.   
  
“At least you can’t get food poisoning!” Erica says brightly.   
  
Scott just grumbles and rips open the carton, biting right down into it. The smell of the food – and he can’t for the life of him remember what it actually is – reaches Derek and makes his stomach twist. There’s laughing and cries of “Ewww!” as Scott wolfs down the entire gelatinous brick – is that a noodle? – in minimum time, and Lydia is mocking him shamelessly when he eventually has to run off to the bathroom to throw the entire thing up again.   
  
“Didn’t I ask you to behave?” Derek sighs, put upon, as Allison runs after Scott to comfort him as he dry-heaves over the toilet.   
  
Stiles is the only one actually paying attention to him as he shoots him a soft smile. Derek just buries his face in his book again.   
  
Not the parent.   
  
***  
  
“You’ll pay for that!” Scott points at Boyd when he comes back from the bathroom, Allison in his trail.   
  
Boyd laughs as he pats Scott on the back, and Derek can tell there’s no real heat behind Scott’s words. He wonders why he feels so satisfied by the fact that his Betas are basically getting along.   
  
“Lydia,” Scott calls out once he’s settled in one of the chairs, with Allison squished in beside him.   
  
“Truth,” Lydia says.   
  
“Who’s your celebrity crush?” Scott asks after thinking for a minute.   
  
“Easy, Daniel Feuerriegel,” she says as she purses her lips, but there’s a distinct stutter in her heartbeat that Derek can hear all the way across the room.   
  
“Lie,” Derek mutters, without lifting his head until he can feel all eyes on him.   
  
“Excuse me?” Lydia asks, and her exterior betrays nothing.   
  
“What?” Derek says, finally looking at his Betas, “You didn’t hear that stutter in her heartbeat? She lied.”   
  
“That is  _so cool_ ,” Stiles says enthusiastically.   
  
“Well…” Isaac says, sharing a look with Boyd who nods.  _Of course_  they heard it too.   
  
“Daniel Feuerriegel is hot!” Lydia exclaims, pulling away from Jackson to sit up straight.   
  
“He is,” Derek says, and he decidedly ignores the way Stiles and Allison let out a squeak, “But it was still a lie.”  
  
“You’re not even in this game!” Lydia counters.   
  
“We all heard it, Lyds,” Jackson says, which earns him a foul look from Lydia right there and then.   
  
“The benefits of playing this game with werewolves,” Stiles laughs.   
  
“Yeah, you just wait until it’s you they’re catching in a lie!” Lydia huffs.   
  
“Come on, are you gonna tell us who it really is?” Boyd asks.   
  
“Fine,” Lydia snaps, “But if Mister Lie-Detector there is going to butt in, I think he should join the game for real.”   
  
“Seems fair!” Isaac calls out as Stiles jumps up to his feet and walks up to Derek. He grabs the book out of his hands, snaps it shut, before grabbing onto Derek’s wrist and trying to pull him up.   
  
“Come on, Sourwolf,” Stiles says, and Derek lets himself be dragged along by Stiles. “Time to put on your big boy pants and join in.”   
  
Derek mumbles a few token protests, but lets himself be pushed into the chair that was previously occupied by Stiles himself.   
  
“Fine,” Derek says as Stiles settles down on a cushion by Derek’s feet, his back leaning half against the chair and half against Derek’s leg. “I’m in. Now… the truth, please.”   
  
Lydia looks at Allison, in hopes of finding some solace there, but she just shrugs apologetically.   
  
“Michael Douglas,” Lydia mumbles through her teeth, and Erica squeaks.   
  
“He’s so old!” Stiles exclaims.   
  
“What?” Lydia calls out, indignant, “Old people can’t be hot?”   
  
There’s a rise of discussion drowning each other out, but Derek doesn’t miss the part where Scott leans into Stiles and says, “Really, Stiles? You commenting on crushing on old people?”   
  
“He’s not that…” Stiles starts, then snapping his mouth shut abruptly. “Shut  _up_ ,” he hisses, and Scott just grins as he pulls back.   
  
And Derek seriously wonders what that was all about.   
  
***  
  
Of course Lydia’s revenge is gruesome. Especially since they made her take off an article of clothing for lying in the first place. She very deliberately took off one sock, and threw it in the middle of the living room. And now she’s having her revenge on Derek, and it might just be the most embarrassing thing Derek could ever imagine.   
  
“I… I mean…” Derek tries not to let his face fall. “There’s no music. How can I do it with no musi…?”   
  
But Stiles holds up his phone triumphantly as he yells, “YouTube!”   
  
“Karaoke version, man,” Boyd grins, and Derek just groans as he buries his face in his hands.   
  
“We can pull you up the lyrics too, if you want,” Erica says cheekily.   
  
“Just how old do you think I am?” Derek says, even though it would probably be less embarrassing to not admit he knew the lyrics by heart. He doesn’t mention the way Laura used to play their songs on end, loud enough for the entire house to hear.   
  
“You ready?” Stiles asks, finger hovering over the play button on his phone.   
  
“I don’t sing,” Derek grumbles.   
  
“Then you have to lose some clothing,” Jackson says around a handful of potato chips.   
  
“I am the Alpha,” Derek all but growls, and the lack of fear is disconcerting, frankly.   
  
“You gonna sing or strip?” Stiles asks, smirking.   
  
“I hate you all,” Derek sighs, but nods his head towards Stiles’ phone as an indication to start the song.   
  
Stiles is practically giggling out loud when he pushes ‘play’ and puts the phone down on the coffee table.   
  
‘Just suck it up, Derek,’ he tells himself as he hears the music start to play and grits out – as melodically as he can while still trying to remain stoic – “ _You are… my fire. The one… desire…_ ”   
  
There’s giggling and snorting all around as he continues the song, but Stiles is staring at him with the goofiest smile on his face and Derek can’t actually find it in himself to be a party-pooper, so he sings out the entire – embarrassingly long – song and gracefully accepts the whoops and whistles he receives at the end of it.   
  
“That was the most awesome thing I have ever seen in my life,” Isaac sniggers as he looks at Derek so fondly, the way Derek’s younger brother used to look at him, and he realizes that they’re not actually mocking him at all. That they’re genuinely happy about being able to include Derek in things like these.   
  
Derek ducks his head and he’s happy to let them think it’s out of embarrassment, and not out of affection.   
  
***  
  
“Call Peter,” Derek says, his face composed, “pretending to be the credit card company to confirm his purchase of the male Little Red Riding Hood outfit.”  
  
“Oooh, sneak attack!” Boyd calls out, as Stiles’ face goes white as a sheet.   
  
“He’ll kill me!” Stiles says, his heartbeat spiking up.  
  
“Then don’t let him know it’s you,” Lydia smirks.   
  
“He’s a  _werewolf_ ,” Stiles says, his arms flailing around. “How am I supposed to hide who I am?”  
  
“You’re on the phone,” Derek says, “He won’t be able to smell you.”  
  
“That’s creepy, by the way,” Stiles says, pointing his finger at Derek.   
  
“He’s not  _actually_  going to kill you, dude,” Scott says.   
  
“No? Seriously? How do you know?” Stiles says, his voice pitching high as Derek holds out his phone with Peter’s contact number in front of him. “At one point or another, he tried to kill all of us here!”   
  
And Derek actually feels kind of bad because he knows that Stiles is tough, and not afraid of a whole lot of things, but that Peter still scares the crap out of him. And it’s not like he can blame Stiles for it, ‘cause Peter is just plain scary.   
  
Stiles actually has his phone in his hand, number ready to dial, when he throws it on the table and strips off his hoodie.   
  
“Fuck it, I can’t do this,” he says as he angrily throws the piece of clothing on the floor, pulling down the shirt that hiked up when he started to undress, revealing a surprisingly toned stomach – not that Derek will admit to paying attention.   
  
“We have a quitter!” Jackson calls out, while Erica just whoops at the hoodie coming off, and it only takes Stiles two seconds to grab the hoodie and the phone back, each in one hand, and says, “Screw you guys, I can  _so_  do this.”   
  
“You totally can!” Scott and Allison encourage him, while Erica asks Derek, “If he gives up again, does he has to take off  _another_  piece of clothing?”  
  
Derek doesn’t really trust his own judgment on this – yes, he  _knows_  one day he’ll have to admit his damn weakness for Stiles – so he just shoots her a look.   
  
Stiles, in the meantime, is dialing and takes a deep breath before Derek can hear Peter’s grumpy voice on the other end of the line.   
  
It turns out that once Stiles gets going, he really goes for it, describing the so-called order in immense detail, no matter how increasingly annoyed Peter seems to get.   
  
“The lace on the edge is very good quality,” Stiles says, in a posh accent to throw Peter off, “I promise you it won’t just rip whenever it’s tugged. And for only a small additional charge…”   
  
“Are you deaf?!” he can hear Peter growl through the phone, “I didn’t order this monstrosity you’re describing to me, and how did you get my credit card number anyway?”   
  
“There is no need to be embarrassed, Mister Hale,” Stiles continues, only daring an occasional glance at Derek, “All of our records are confidential. You can play out your most secret fantasies with our products without having to worry about anyone violating your privacy.”   
  
Jackson nearly bursts out in laughter as Peter lets out an irritated roar and says, “If there are charges on my card, I will  _rip your throat out_!” and hangs up.   
  
Stiles stares at the phone in his hand for a second, then looks up at Derek and says, “I can see the family resemblance” before bursting out in laughter.   
  
He doesn’t put his hoodie back on.  
  
***  
  
“Dare,” Allison says tentatively, and Stiles tosses her an apple that she instinctively catches.   
  
“You got your bow, right?” Stiles asks, and Derek snorts as he sees where this is going.   
  
Allison nods. “In the trunk of my car.”   
  
“Okay… let’s reenact some William Tell,” Stiles says, and Allison regards the apple in her hand without the slightest bit of fear.   
  
“Now, it’s not that I don’t trust your skills, ‘cause I seriously do, but let’s just be safe anyway and use a werewolf, yeah?” Stiles says.   
  
“I’ll do it,” Boyd volunteers, grabbing the apple from Allison’s hands as he gets up from the couch.  
  
Scott goes to grab the bow and arrows from the trunk of Allison’s car while Boyd leans his back against one of the wooden beams in the loft and places the apple on the top of his head – which promptly rolls off.   
  
“Should’ve used a werewolf with hair…” Erica says, but Boyd just gives her a look and steadies the apple on his head again.   
  
He stays perfectly still, while Allison lines up from the other end of the loft.   
  
“Hey Boyd, you haven’t done anything to piss Allison off lately, right?” Lydia grins cheekily.   
  
“There will be no maiming in my loft,” Derek states matter-of-factly, and Stiles snorts.   
  
“How long do you think you’ll be able to keep to that rule?” he asks, but he’s smiling at Derek while he does.   
  
“New leaf and all that,” Derek says, and he’s smiling back before he knows it.   
  
“You did notice the huge hole in your wall, right?” Stiles asks, nodding towards the gaping hole between the living room and the hallway.   
  
“That…” Derek shakes his head, “That was different.”   
  
Stiles grins, and Allison clears her throat as she raises her bow and points at Boyd.   
  
“Am I good to go?” she asks.   
  
“Floor’s all yours, babe,” Scott says as Allison lines up and shoots the apple right off Boyd’s head in one fell swoop.   
  
“Yessss!” Scott calls out, as Isaac applauds, and the rest of them just cheer.   
  
Allison takes a mock-bow.   
  
***  
  
“Uhm…” Erica says as she stretches out on the couch, her legs sprawled over Isaac’s lap. “Truth.”   
  
“If you had to choose one of the people in this room,” Allison starts, “Like, you can’t pick anyone else… Who would you pick for your first time?”   
  
“We’re talking first time,  _first time_ , right?” Erica asks.   
  
“Sex, Erica!” Stiles calls out, “We’re talking sexxxxxx…”   
  
“Okay,” Erica says, scratching her chin as she ponders out loud, “I bet Derek would be a total animal in the sack, right?”   
  
“Hah!” Boyd snorts, and Derek tries hard to keep a straight face.   
  
“All instinct and passion and clothes ripping off,” Erica smiles.   
  
“There’d be howling,” Stiles joins in, nodding frantically – like he actually knows from experience or something.   
  
“Excuse me!” Derek interjects, indignant, “How did this suddenly turn into a Derek Hale sex guide or something?”   
  
“Isaac…” Erica continues purposely, “would be totally sweet and soft… Completely attuned to my needs.”   
  
She digs the heel of her foot into Isaac’s thigh as she says it, and Isaac actually looks proudly back at her.   
  
“Are you actually going to give an answer or are you just going to describe everyone in the room?” Scott asks.   
  
“Oh, come on!” Stiles cries out, “I want her to describe everyone in the room!”   
  
“ _Stiles_!” Erica says pointedly, and there’s a beat as everyone waits for her to go on, until she says, “I’d pick Stiles to be my first.”   
  
And Stiles almost chokes on his soda.   
  
“Are you serious?” Jackson squints his face, like he honestly can’t understand why on earth anyone would pick Stiles with him in the room, and Derek has to resist the urge to punch him in the face.   
  
“Did you  _hear_  me lie?” Erica challenges, cocky, and Jackson just snaps his mouth shut.   
  
“M-me?” Stiles asks, like he seriously couldn’t understand why.   
  
“Well, if I had to pick from  _this_  crowd,” Erica shrugs.   
  
“I honestly can’t tell if that’s a compliment for Stiles, or an insult to the rest of us,” Scott says.   
  
But Stiles is beaming fondly at Erica, while she blows him a kiss, and it takes all Derek has not to ask her what she thinks Stiles would be like in bed, because there’s no way he’s opening that can of worms.   
  
***  
  
There’s screeching and giggling, as Isaac’s face falls and he seems speechless for a second, before he hisses at Erica, “I  _hate_  you…”   
  
“That’s a lie, you so love me,” Erica says smug, and Isaac’s eyes are locked on hers and Derek is sure there’s an entire mental conversation going on between the two of them right now.   
  
Scott is blushing lightly, and Allison actually looks surprisingly unbothered for someone whose boyfriend just got dared to be kissed by one of his best friends. Of course, she’s not privy to the sound of Isaac’s heartbeat, which is all over the place. He looks a mixture of fear and anticipation and Derek has a mind to shut the whole thing down and send everyone to bed because in that moment he just  _knows_  why Erica dared Isaac to kiss Scott, and every fiber of his being is telling him to protect Isaac from heartbreak.   
  
But it’s a game, and they’re teenagers, and Isaac seems to compose himself as he tries a half-smile at Scott and says, “Sorry, man.”   
  
“That’s the game, right?” Scott says with a smile, and Derek is pretty sure he’s oblivious to the whole thing as he actually shuffles his knees over the floor a little closer to Isaac. In a way Derek wants to slap Scott for exploiting his werewolf-senses so badly ‘cause he should be able to tell what’s going on with Isaac, but for Isaac’s sake, he just lets it go.   
  
There’s a flush on Isaac’s face as he grips his hands on his thighs and worries his bottom lip between his teeth, and then Jackson cries out, “Oh man, and McCall totally barfed earlier!”   
  
Stiles and Boyd burst out in laughter as Scott calls out indignant, “I rinsed my mouth with Derek’s mouthwash, asswipe!”  
  
“Maybe Isaac can use some of it too,” Jackson says snarkily.   
  
“Hey!” Isaac and Scott call out simultaneously, and Isaac’s eyes flicker over to Scott.   
  
“Come on, man,” Scott says, and Isaac nods like he’s mentally stabilizing himself before he grabs Scott by the collar like he’s grabbing onto his own courage and he lurches forward to plant his lips against Scott’s.   
  
The girls – even Allison – are cheering, and the guys are laughing as the initial roughness of the kiss wears off and Isaac’s lips are moving softly across Scott’s. The edges of Scott’s mouth are turned upward slightly, and he’s responding to Isaac in kind, until Isaac pulls back with a bewildered look on his face. He’s panting slightly and ducks his head as the rest begin to applaud, and then Scott grins widely and plops back down in his chair, Allison securely next to him.   
  
***  
  
“Dare,” Lydia says.   
  
“I dare you to eat a tablespoon of tabasco,” Isaac says, who seems to have recovered a bit from his kiss, even though he keeps sneaking glances at Scott when Scott isn’t looking.   
  
“Ugh,” Lydia says, but she does it anyway, despite the tears springing in her eyes and the single retch she tries to keep in. She does grab an entire bottle of soda for herself after that, and takes huge chugs.   
  
Lydia then dares Jackson to call up Peter and pretend to want to have sex with him, which leads to the most awkward five minutes Derek has ever witnessed in his life, when Peter – whether he’s just playing along with the game or actually serious – goes along with it until Jackson gets so uncomfortable he abruptly ends the call.   
  
The next fifteen minutes are spent arguing whether or not Jackson should have to take off an article of clothing or not, seeing as he didn’t actually play out the entire phone call.   
  
In the end, Jackson takes off his shirt anyway, because he’s a total exhibitionist.   
  
***  
  
“When was the last time you jerked off to thoughts of Lydia?” Jackson asks Stiles, a smug smile on his face.  
  
Lydia doesn’t bat an eyelash, just looks at Stiles, waiting for an answer.   
  
Derek is expecting Stiles’ heartbeat to go up, for him to get uncomfortable, but he just scratches at the back of his neck and says, “Uhm, actually… I can’t really remember. Like, nine months ago, maybe?”   
  
“What?” Jackson calls out surprised, and Derek straightens himself as he regards Stiles.   
  
Stiles just shrugs apologetic, “What?”   
  
“When did this happen?” Erica asks amused, and Derek can’t help but wonder the same thing.   
  
“You’re totally lying,” Jackson dismisses with the wave of a hand, and Lydia actually looks insulted.   
  
“I’m not!” Stiles calls out, “Hey, I’m sorry, man. I didn’t think you’d mind that I actually  _stopped_  thinking about having sex with your girlfriend!”   
  
“This is the weirdest conversation ever,” Boyd mutters, shaking his head slightly.   
  
“I didn’t hear a lie,” Isaac interjects, and he looks at Derek expectantly.   
  
“There wasn’t one,” Derek says, not taking his eyes off Stiles.   
  
“Told you.” Stiles shrugs.   
  
By the way Stiles is studiously ignoring Scott’s gaze, and the fact that Scott doesn’t look in the least bit surprised by the recent turn of events, Derek can tell that Scott knows exactly what’s going on, even if he does seem to be the only one.   
  
***  
  
Then Stiles dares Derek to walks on his hands across the room with a human on his back.   
  
“How does that even logistically work?” Allison asks, frowning.   
  
“Where does the human fit?” Boyd wonders out loud.   
  
“I don’t know.” Stiles shrugs. “Between his legs or something?” He waves vaguely in the direction of Derek’s body.   
  
Derek sighs as he gets up and flexes his muscles a bit. He looks around expectantly at the humans. Lydia shoots him down with one single look, her lips pressed together. So Derek looks over at Allison and raises his eyebrows.   
  
“No way!” Scott says immediately, leaning a little closer into Allison as he speaks. “There’s no way Allison is crawling up between his legs.”   
  
“Jealous much?” Erica smiles.   
  
But before Scott can open his mouth, Derek sighs, “Can’t I just pick Isaac?”   
  
Because Isaac truly is like a brother to him, and the thought of having him up in his personal space doesn’t bother him as much as it once did.   
  
“He would totally make it easy on you with his werewolf strength,” Stiles whines.   
  
“You realize that only leaves you, right?” Derek asks pointedly.   
  
“Oh,” Stiles says, and there’s a beat. “Right.”   
  
And Derek rolls his eyes but beckons him closer.   
  
“Come on.”  
  
Derek places his hands on the floor and swings up into a full handstand with ease.   
  
“How do I…?” Stiles asks, approaching Derek carefully, eyes on Derek’s abs where his shirt has fallen down.  
  
“Wasn’t this your dare?” Derek asks, keeping steady on his arms.   
  
“I think I didn’t really think this one through…” Stiles mutters, scratching at the back of his neck.   
  
“Boyd…” Derek sighs, and he spreads his legs because he isn’t going to be standing upside down the entire evening, dammit. And Boyd steps up and just grabs Stiles under the arms – who squeaks in surprise – and places him unceremoniously between Derek’s open legs.   
  
“Oooh my God,” Stiles mumbles as he grabs onto Derek’s leg to steady himself, and  _yes_ , they’re basically sitting butt-to-butt and Stiles’ leg is brushing over Derek’s crotch and why did he allow a bunch of teenagers to play these stupid games in his loft anyway?   
  
“Fuck, man…” Stiles breathes, and Derek isn’t even sure what he’s commenting on, but Stiles’ fingers are gripping his leg and he’s warm, pressed up against Derek, and it needs to end  _now_.   
  
So Derek moves across the room, hands walking steady across the floorboards as Stiles wobbles between his legs and the rest of them just snigger and laugh. When he reaches the wall, he tilts his body to let Stiles slide off – which he does without much grace and with much flailing – before his feet touch the ground again and he brushes imaginary dust off his shirt.   
  
“Nice, uh… muscles,” Stiles says, clearing his throat, blinking his eyes a few times.   
  
Derek just stares at him for a second before putting a scowl on his face.   
  
“You should eat less of those chips,” Derek mumbles humorlessly, even though they both know that’s bullshit.   
  
***  
  
“Dirtiest fantasy,” Derek says, stretching out his legs in front of him.   
  
“Why is it always sex with me?” Erica asks, taking a sip from her coke.   
  
“It’s truth or dare, it’s sex with  _everyone_ ,” Isaac says.  
  
“Fine,” she answers, then scratches at her lip for a second while she thinks. “Well… there’s uhm… I don’t know what it’s like for you guys, but the full moon always just makes me… well, horny.”   
  
“Really?” Stiles asks, and both Lydia and Allison grunt something in agreement that must mean they know exactly what Erica is talking about.   
  
“Wow…” Stiles whispers impressed as he leans forward to listen carefully as Erica speaks.   
  
“So yeah, it’s not like I actually want it to happen, ‘cause that would be totally weird, but sometimes I just think of what it would be like…” she trails off, then shrugs. “Basically one big full moon pack orgy.”   
  
“Whoa… The next full moon isn’t going to be awkward at all,” Boyd says sarcastically.   
  
“Oh, come on!” Erica says, “That’s just the game! Don’t you dare go all weird on me. Like I haven’t smelled the pheromones coming off you on the full moon either?”  
  
“We all have it,” Derek says, matter-of-factly, and he’s ignoring the way Stiles is looking at him with big eyes. “It’s a wolf thing.”   
  
“So in this fantasy of yours…” Jackson asks, curious, “What? We’re all taking turns or something?”   
  
“We’re all… in it together,” Erica smiles.   
  
“You mean…?” Jackson says, daring a glance at Scott.   
  
“Yep,” Erica wiggles her eyebrows, and the rest just laugh at how uncomfortable Jackson suddenly looks.   
  
***  
  
“I’m too lazy to get up,” Isaac says, reaching his hand inside a bag of potato chips as he’s stretched out on the couch. “Truth.”   
  
“Who are you crushing on?” Erica asks, “Real life crush.”   
  
Isaac sighs, his hand stilling inside the bag of chips before he takes it out without grabbing one.   
  
“I really hate you,” he eventually mutters again.   
  
And Erica leans in to kiss him on the cheek. Isaac swats her off, without any heat, and simply gets up and pulls his shirt off over his head.   
  
“Oh, come on!” Boyd calls out.   
  
“No way,” Isaac says, throwing the shirt down on the floor and letting himself fall back down on the couch.   
  
“Now you’ll just be cold,” Erica says, trying to persuade him.   
  
“I’ll live,” Isaac mutters, and he keeps his gaze steady on his own lap, to keep from wandering the room.   
  
***  
  
“Tell us about your first kiss,” Isaac asks Boyd.   
  
“Can’t,” Boys says, “Haven’t actually had one.”   
  
“What?” Scott asks, surprised.   
  
“How is that even possible, when you look like that?” Allison asks.   
  
“Because I’m not interested in kissing someone I’m not in love with?” Boyd just shrugs.   
  
“Oh, how can you even say that?” Jackson calls out.   
  
“Not everyone’s a pig like you, Jackson,” Stiles snaps. “I think it’s admirable.”   
  
“You’re just saying that because you’re a sad virgin, too,” Jackson snorts.   
  
“Hey, come on,” Allison says, “This is supposed to be fun.”   
  
“I’m not ashamed of the fact that I haven’t kissed anyone yet,” Boyd says, “It’s not a flaw or anything.”  
  
“It’s weird, is what it is…” Jackson mutters under his breath, and Lydia jabs him in the ribs with her elbow.   
  
“No, it isn’t,” Stiles interjects, at the same time as Derek says, “It’s better than kissing the wrong person.”   
  
“Totally,” Stiles says, directing a warm smile at Derek.   
  
“Oh come on, Stiles,” Jackson says, “You’re the most sexually frustrated person I know.”   
  
“Only because people don’t acknowledge my intense awesomeness!” Stiles smiles broadly. “One day they will. And Boyd will find that one perfect person for him and his first kiss will be way more awesome than yours.”   
  
Boyd just smiles and holds out his fist for Stiles’ to bump. Stiles looks ridiculously proud, and Jackson just rolls his eyes.   
  
***  
  
“She’ll catch pneumonia!” Scott whines as Allison’s already taking off her socks.   
  
“No, she won’t,” Boyd says, all but rolling his eyes. “It’s just a circle around the building. She’ll be back in no time.”   
  
“Just with cold feet,” Allison smiles, and nudges Scott in the ribs.   
  
She wriggles her bare toes on the hardwood floor before taking a deep breath.   
  
“If I get eaten by an abominable snowman, I’ll blame you though,” Allison tells Boyd before she heads through the gigantic hole in the wall of Derek’s loft.   
  
Scott follows her until she’s reached the front door.   
  
“Close the door behind you!” Erica calls out with a laugh, “We don’t wanna get cold!”   
  
Derek can hear Allison laugh as she clicks the door shut behind her and starts to run out in the snow. Scott worries by the door until she makes the entire round of the building, then stumbles back in, teeth chattering.   
  
“Oh my God!” she shrieks, “I think my feet are numb!”   
  
Allison jumps up and down as her wet feet make puddles on the floor, and Scott wraps his arms around her instantly.   
  
“You okay?” he asks, pulling her towards the warmth of the radiators in the living room.   
  
“C-cold,” she answers, and she shivers as she circles her arms around Scott’s waist.   
  
“Bad-ass, Allison,” Boyd smiles, and holds out his fist for a bump.   
  
“Cold bad-ass,” Allison smiles back, and taps her shaking fist against his.   
  
Scott and Allison curl up on the floor next to the radiator, and Stiles suddenly appears with a thick blanket that he wraps around her feet and legs.   
  
“That’s from my room,” Derek grumbles, but it doesn’t come out as threatening.   
  
“You have more,” Stiles says, and Derek doesn’t want to think about the fact that Stiles went into his bedroom and searched his closets.   
  
“You could’ve asked,” Derek says, just to say something in response.   
  
“You could’ve offered,” Stiles smiles, and his eyes never leave Derek’s.   
  
“Such a gentleman,” Allison says at Stiles as she buries her head against Scott’s chest.   
  
Stiles looks smugly at Derek.   
  
“Yeah…” Derek mutters.   
  
***  
  
Allison recovers quite quickly, even though she keeps her feet wrapped firmly in the blanket.   
  
“Okay Stiles… truth or dare?” she asks, leaning back against Scott’s chest.   
  
“Uh…” Stiles says, and his eyes are roaming the room, landing on Derek, before he quickly snaps his head back towards Allison. “Dare.”   
  
“The cinnamon challenge,” she says, and the wicked smile on her face tells him that she’s been holding that one back for a while.   
  
“Oh, brutal!” Isaac cries out.   
  
“What’s the cinnamon challenge?” Lydia asks, and Stiles gulps loudly.   
  
“You have to eat a tablespoon of cinnamon,” Isaac explains, “Only, it dries out your entire mouth, and you can’t actually swallow it, and it’s supposed to be really really nasty.”  
  
“You basically just choke on the cinnamon,” Boyd says.   
  
“Perfect,” Stiles deadpans. Then he looks at Derek. “I suppose there’s no chance you don’t have any cinnamon in the house, right?”  
  
The look on Stiles’ face almost makes Derek want to lie to the rest of them, but it’s a game and besides, he’s pretty sure the rest of them know exactly what Derek has in his cupboards, with all the times they’re stealing his food.   
  
“Sorry,” Derek shrugs, and he’s not surprised to find that he actually means it.   
  
Isaac rushes out into the kitchen and comes back with a spoon and the bottle of cinnamon, and Stiles just groans.   
  
“He’s not spewing cinnamon all over my living room,” Derek says put-upon, as he gets up and taps Stiles on the shoulder. “You’re doing this in the bathroom.”   
  
There’s a flurry as everyone gets up and follows Derek into his upstairs bathroom, where Stiles settles on the edge of the bathtub.   
  
“Whatever mess you make, I’m not cleaning it up,” Derek says, before waving his hand from the cinnamon in Isaac’s hand towards Stiles.   
  
Isaac fumbles open the container and pours the powder on the spoon.   
  
“Make sure it’s enough,” Allison says, and Stiles protests, but Isaac adds another dash of the powder to the spoon, until it pours over.   
  
“He’s so gonna barf,” Scott says, shakes his head.   
  
“He wouldn’t be the only one,” Jackson laughs, looking pointedly at Scott.   
  
Stiles groans and buries his face in his hands for a second.   
  
“I’ve seen clips of this on YouTube…” he says, and he sounds pained, “And it wasn’t pretty.”   
  
“You can always just take off some clothes,” Derek says, and the words are out before he even realizes he’s said them.   
  
“Amen to that,” Erica smiles, from where she’s standing perched in the doorway with Boyd.   
  
“Just give me the poison…” Stiles says, grabbing the spoon from Isaac, spilling some more cinnamon on the floor in the process.   
  
Erica’s squeal echoes off the walls of the bathroom as Stiles eyes the spoon before he takes a deep breath and shoves the spoon in his mouth. His face is squinted up in disgust as he spits out a puff of cinnamon instantly, then makes aborted gag-movements as he tries to swallow down the powder.   
  
“Oh my God!” Allison cries out, as Jackson says, “Oh, that looks  _nasty_.”   
  
Stiles starts coughing, spewing out a cloud of cinnamon all over bathroom and… Derek’s shirt. He’s gagging and gasping for air at the same time, and it makes a halted wheezing noise as he doubles over the rim of the bathtub and reaches to turn on the faucet. He’s flailing slightly, so Derek helps him out, gets the water running so Stiles can cup his hands under it and splash the water in his face. He tries to take big gulps but it only makes him gag more and Derek can hear his heartbeat spiking up.   
  
“O-oh,” Scott says, because obviously he’s heard it too.   
  
“What?” Allison asks, but Scott just drops to his knees next to Stiles, who’s hanging over the bathtub, trying to get his mouth wet and the cinnamon out while he coughs and gags.   
  
“Hey, it’s gonna be okay, buddy,” Scott says, a steady hand on Stiles’ back, but Stiles just shakes his head in a quick shaky movement, and his breathing is ragged and interrupted, and his heartbeat is starting to become deafening.   
  
“What’s going on?” Lydia asks, the worry audible in her voice.   
  
“He’s getting a panic attack,” Scott says, his focus still on Stiles.   
  
“I didn’t think…” Allison starts, and she’s sounding a bit panicked herself.   
  
“Okay, everyone out,” Derek says as he straightens up, “The game is over, everybody move.”   
  
“But…” Jackson starts, but Derek cuts him off, “Everyone staring at him while he’s having a panic attack isn’t going to help. So everyone off to bed.” He’s literally shooing everyone out the door. “You can all find a place to sleep. There’s the spare bedroom, and the living room with the pull-out couch, just… get out, okay?”   
  
There’s a hum of protest but everyone seeps out of the room eventually, only leaving Scott who’s sitting on the floor next to Stiles who’s still wheezing and coughing, cinnamon caked all over his face.   
  
“You too,” Derek says as he grabs Scott by the shoulder and hauls him up.   
  
“Dude, he’s panicking,” Scott protests, but Derek shoves him out the room anyway.   
  
“I’ll handle it,” Derek says, “Trust me.”   
  
He doesn’t wait for Scott to answer before he closes the door in his face.   
  
“Hey…” Derek says as he scoots to his knees next to Stiles.   
  
There are tears in Stiles’ eyes as he squeezes them shut, leaning into Derek’s touch as he mimics Scott’s movements from earlier by placing his hand between Stiles’ shoulder blades and rubbing gently.   
  
Stiles gasps for air abruptly, and Derek can tell he’s rinsed out most of the cinnamon, and he’s simply riding in the aftermath of the panic attack.   
  
“Sorry,” Stiles mutters, sounding broken.   
  
“Don’t be,” Derek says, and his hand comes up to Stiles’ neck and he grips slightly. He can hear Stiles’ heartbeat slowly return back to normal. “I shouldn’t have allowed the dare. It was stupid.”   
  
But Stiles shakes his head, his forehead rubbing against Derek’s chest. “I shouldn’t have panicked. I just…” He takes a deep breath. “I couldn’t breathe.”   
  
Derek just nods, then grabs one of the washcloths from the edge of the tub and holds it under the water.   
  
“You’re okay now,” he says, and tilts Stiles’ face up so he can start cleaning off the clumped cinnamon with soft, gentle wipes.   
  
“I guess I wasn’t up for the challenge…” Stiles says with a choked off sob.   
  
Derek wipes the last of his face and neck clean, then drops the dirty washcloth in the tub and turns off the water.   
  
“You’ll be fine,” Derek says, and he’s glad to hear Stiles’ heartbeat has dropped to an acceptable pace.   
  
“I know,” Stiles ducks his head, “I’m sorry.”   
  
“I was about ready to go call it a night anyway,” Derek lies, “You gave me a good excuse to send everyone to bed.”   
  
Stiles nods, but there’s a slight blush on his cheeks. Derek gets up off the floor, grabs the plastic cup by the sink and fills it with water before handing it to Stiles.   
  
“Here,” he says, and as Stiles takes the cup, their fingers brush over each other briefly, “Drink this, but in slow sips.”   
  
Stiles nods again, and does as told.   
  
“Thanks,” he says as he puts down the cup by the sink again, then looks down at his cinnamon-stained shirt. “I made quite a mess of myself.”  
  
Derek’s eyes drop to Stiles’ shirt as Stiles looks around the bathroom, then at Derek. “And of your bathroom and your shirt, it seems…”   
  
“I got some clean stuff in my room,” Derek says, “Come on.”   
  
They bump into Scott in the hallway, who apparently didn’t go very far when Derek sent him out the room.   
  
“Are you okay?” Scott asks, a hand on Stiles’ shoulder.   
  
“Yeah, man,” Stiles says, a little embarrassed, “Sorry I flaked like that.”   
  
“Oh, shut up,” Scott says as he pats Stiles on the shoulder, and he says it in the kindest way.   
  
“Go to bed, Scott,” Derek says, and to his surprise, Scott nods and heads into the spare bedroom.   
  
Derek is even more surprised when Stiles follows Derek into his. He closes the door behind him, and as Derek looks at him, Stiles tugs the edge of his shirt down and says, “You said something about a clean shirt?”   
  
“Yeah…” Derek says, and there’s a slight rise in Stiles’ heartbeat again, but Derek tries not to fixate on it.   
  
He takes two shirts out of his closet, throws one at Stiles and the other on the bed. He swiftly strips off his own dirty shirt, the smell of cinnamon almost overwhelming him, and throws it in his hamper. It’s only when he reaches for the clean shirt that he notices Stiles is staring at him, dirty shirt still on and clean one in his hand. Derek raises his eyebrows, giving Stiles a pointed look.   
  
“Uhm,” Stiles stammers, then quickly plucks the dirty shirt over his head, letting it drop to the floor as he pulls the clean one on, trying to hide the flush on his face.   
  
“I’ll just, uh…” Stiles says when he’s flattening his hands over his shirt –  _Derek’s_  shirt – and looking at the closed door. “I guess I’ll go find a place to sleep.”   
  
Derek clenches his jaw for a second, knowing that he should probably just nod, let Stiles walk out of there and forget all about the palpable tension in the room. But there’s something burning in the pit of Derek’s stomach, something that tells him that maybe Stiles doesn’t necessarily  _want_  to leave. And the words are out before he knows it.   
  
“I have a place to sleep for you,” Derek says, nodding slowly towards his bed.   
  
“Derek…” Stiles says, but the rest of the words seem stuck in his throat, and he’s just staring wide-eyed at the bed.   
  
“Look,” Derek says, trying to keep his voice as level as he can, “You can step out and go sleep in the spare bedroom, or the living room, or whatever, and we won’t mention this again. But I’m offering you a place here, with me, and whether you take it is completely up to you.”   
  
“But you’re… uh?” Stiles says, fidgeting on his feet. “You’d want me to stay?”   
  
“Is that so hard to believe?” Derek asks.   
  
Stiles just stands there, staring open-mouthed at Derek, his fingers still gripping the edge of his shirt.   
  
Derek turns his back on Stiles, pulls back the covers on his bed. He steps out of his jeans, leaving him in boxers and a shirt.   
  
“It’s your decision, Stiles,” Derek says as he crawls into the bed, leaving one side of the covers down. “But yeah, I’d want you to stay.”   
  
There’s no movement for a second as Derek buries his cheek into the pillow and he fears that Stiles will just walk out the door. Then there’s a rustling sound as Stiles steps out of his pants and there’s a dip in the mattress when he puts his knee down next to Derek. Derek turns towards him, scoots back a little to make room for him.   
  
“Can I stay for…?” Stiles says, hesitantly. “Can I stay for, like, longer than tonight? I mean, is this…?”   
  
He’s looking for his words, one knee on the bed, his other foot resting on the floor.   
  
“More than one night,” Derek says, “I’m offering more than one night.”   
  
Stiles’ face cracks open in a smile, as he reaches to turn off the light and slides into the bed. Derek opens his arms and Stiles finds his place in Derek’s embrace, pressing his back against Derek, legs curling in between his.   
  
“I want more than one night, too,” Stiles whispers, and Derek buries his face against the back of Stiles’ neck.   
  
Stiles smells like Cheetos and cinnamon and warmth and security, and Derek closes his eyes, tightening his arms around Stiles. Stiles makes a content humming sound, sliding his hands over Derek’s arms.   
  
“I’m sorry about the panic attack,” Stiles says after a moment of silence.   
  
“Shut up,” Derek says, stubble rasping over the skin of Stiles’ neck as he speaks. “You’ll feel better in the morning.”   
  
Stiles slides his fingers over the back of Derek’s hand, slips them in between Derek’s, and his heartbeat evens out.   
  
***  
  
It’s a stumble in the hallway that wakes Derek up – Lydia heading towards the bathroom – and then things get quiet again. His arms are still securely wrapped around Stiles, and Derek wonders how a person so hyper-active as Stiles manages to not move an inch the entire night.   
  
Stiles’ back is radiating heat against Derek’s chest, and Derek has his leg curled in between Stiles’, his face resting against the nape of Stiles’ neck. His half-hard cock is nestled against the curve of Stiles’ ass, and Derek vaguely thinks that maybe he should create some distance between them, as to not freak Stiles out when he wakes. But when Derek tries to squirm back carefully, Stiles just grumbles softly and tightens his grip around Derek’s arms.   
  
His heartbeat tells Derek that Stiles is waking up slowly, and Derek can tell the exact moment Stiles is conscious enough to realize where he is, and what’s pressing against his ass.   
  
Derek opens his mouth to draw a breath, to say something, but Stiles cuts him off with a sleepy grumble.   
  
“If you say you’re sorry, then I guess I completely misinterpreted what you were saying last night.”   
  
“I wasn’t going to…” Derek says, and Stiles twists around in his arms, sliding his leg in between Derek’s and pushing his knee up until his leg is pressing against Derek’s half-hard cock.   
  
“Liar,” Stiles says, the tip of his nose brushing against Derek’s as he stares into his eyes.   
  
“I…” Derek says, and it’s hard to come up with actual words with Stiles wriggling in his embrace, his mouth so close and… “You didn’t misinterpret anything. I just want to make sure you’re okay with this. Because your Dad thinks you’re at Scott’s, and the house is filled with werewolves with impeccable hearing and…”  
  
“Good timing only happens in those cheesy rom-com movies.” Stiles shrugs, and there’s a fraction of a second where Derek thinks he’ll lean in and kiss him, but then Stiles ducks his head a bit, resting his forehead against Derek’s nose. “Oh man, I must have the worst breath in the world right now. How have you not kicked me out of bed yet?”   
  
Derek smiles and tightens his arms around Stiles a bit more.   
  
“It’s a bit… cinnamon-y,” Derek says, and Stiles starts giggling, head buried against Derek’s neck, his fingers tightening in Derek’s shirt.   
  
“With a morning-edge to it,” Derek adds, smiling.   
  
“Oh God,” Stiles laughs, disentangling himself from Derek as he tries to twist around in his embrace. “I need to go brush m…”   
  
But Derek pulls him back, pulls him flush against himself as he dips in for a kiss, desperate and demanding. Because he doesn’t care about Stiles’ morning breath half as much as he cares about finally feeling Stiles’ lips against his, finally having Stiles’ skin under his hands, feeling Stiles’ heartbeat speed up out of something other than fear or embarrassment.   
  
The second Derek gets his lips on Stiles, Stiles makes a groaning sound in the back of his throat, and he gets his hand on the back of Derek’s neck, pulling him close, drawing him into the kiss. All thoughts of his morning breath seemingly forgotten, Stiles’ mouth opens up under Derek’s, and his tongue darts out, desperate to find Derek’s.   
  
Derek’s hands are steady on Stiles’ sides, under the fabric of Derek’s own shirt, a shirt that now smells like the both of them and Derek thinks that maybe he’s just sappy enough to never ever wash that shirt again – and honestly? What has Stiles done to him?   
  
Derek nips at Stiles’ lips, and Stiles presses his hips forward, grinding against Derek’s, and Derek can feel Stiles’ cock, hard and heavy as it rubs up against his own. Derek doesn’t touch it yet, though. He just runs his hands over Stiles’ skin, as he gets lost in Stiles’ mouth. He thinks he could just stay like this for days, and maybe he will… maybe he’ll just kiss Stiles over and over again until the snow outside has melted and everything is as warm and bright as the two of them are right now, right in this moment.   
  
At some point, Stiles breaks free, his kiss-swollen lips brushing over Derek’s cheek as he mutters, “I guess Erica wasn’t entirely right, huh?   
  
“Hmm?” Derek hums, his fingers flexing against the soft skin of Stiles’ side, sliding up to his back, feeling the goosebumps under his fingertips.   
  
“About you being all animal,” Stiles clarifies, his breathing heavy and ragged, “All… wild and stuff, and…”   
  
“Are you disappointed?” Derek asks, dropping tiny kisses against Stiles’ neck as he rolls on top of Stiles gently, rocking his hips forward.   
  
“N-no,” Stiles breathes, his legs falling open to fit Derek perfectly. “But I’m also not saying that, like, at some point I wouldn’t want… uh…”  
  
“Me to pin you against a wall and ravish you on the spot?” Derek asks, fabric-covered cock sliding up against Stiles’, and Stiles’ breath hitches in his throat before he lets out a long shuddering breath.   
  
Stiles’ hands still on Derek’s skin, like he’s forgetting how to move, and Derek can feel the front of Stiles’ boxers become wet.   
  
“Yeah…” Stiles says, finally, and the smell of pre-come and arousal is overwhelming in the room. “That would definitely be nice, sometimes. But… this… I didn’t think you would… I… I mean…”   
  
“It’s okay,” Derek says, as he pulls back far enough to look him in the eyes. He rubs his hands up Stiles’ chest, bunching the shirt up high on his torso. Stiles’ eyes are clouded with want, his lips slightly parted, like it’s the only way to actually get breath in his lungs.   
  
“Stiles…” Derek says, as if it’s an afterthought.   
  
“I’ve never…” Stiles says, and he doesn’t need to finish the thought for Derek to know what he’s trying to say. “And this is… this is perfect.”   
  
Derek ducks his head and presses his lips against Stiles’ carefully, gently, like Stiles could break at any time. And maybe in a way he is, because he looks like he’s about to come apart at the seams, looking up at Derek like he’s giving him the world.   
  
The kiss is soft and unhurried, Stiles’ hands finding their way onto Derek’s back, fingertips pressing in. Derek starts to rock his hips, finds a slow-building rhythm that Stiles seems to agree with as he pushes up into Derek, arms clutching him tight.   
  
“This is perfect…” Stiles whispers against Derek’s lips, and Derek isn’t sure Stiles actually realized he said it again.   
  
“Perfect,” Derek agrees, the length of his cock pressing into Stiles’ abs, his hands pinned underneath Stiles’ body.  
  
There’s more and more movement in the loft, but Derek can’t bring himself to care as his thrusts are getting faster, heavier, and Stiles starts gasping near his ear, his fingers gripping at Derek’s shoulder blades like he wants to pull him even closer, like he wants to urge him on, like he wants everything and anything Derek has to give him.   
  
Stiles shifts then, curls his legs around Derek’s waist, and the shift in position makes Derek drag his cock underneath Stiles’, underneath his balls, and Stiles cries out as he slowly unravels.   
  
“Derek, I…” Stiles gasps, his heels digging into the back of Derek’s thighs, and Derek snaps his hips down as he crushes his mouth against Stiles’ and Derek swallows the sound Stiles makes as he arches his back and comes, spurting inside his boxers.   
  
Stiles breaks free to gulp for air as he rides out his orgasm, twitching inside Derek’s embrace. And Derek can promise he isn’t far behind.   
  
***  
  
“I hate you,” Scott deadpans as Stiles and Derek finally stumble out of the bedroom and into Scott on their way to the bathroom.   
  
“No, you don’t,” Stiles says, and the smile on his face is enough to tell the world that he finally got some, even if Scott  _hadn’t_  heard it all with his own ears. “You’re deliriously happy for me.”   
  
“You’re the one that’s delirious,” Scott mutters, but he bumps his shoulder against Stiles’ anyway, as he passes him and heads into the living room.   
  
“So I was wrong, huh, Stiles?” Erica shouts at the top of her lungs from somewhere in the living room, and Derek just cringes and buries his face in his hands.   
  
Stiles just barks out a loud laugh and shouts back, “You weren’t wrong about the passion!”   
  
There’s an  _actual_  howl from Isaac, and Derek just grabs Stiles’ hand and tugs him towards the bathroom.   
  
“They basically had front row tickets to the show,” Derek grumbles, “Can we not give them a running commentary as well?”   
  
Stiles laughs as he shuts the bathroom door behind him, completely ignoring the cinnamon mess all over the floor.   
  
“Are you embarrassed, Derek?” Stiles asks, smiling.   
  
“Didn’t you need to brush your teeth or something?” Derek deflects, fiddling with the knobs to get the shower running.  
  
“Oh my God, the honeymoon is totally over already!” Stiles says, mock-dramatic. “I thought you didn’t care about my horrible breath and here I am, finding out th…”  
  
And Derek just grabs Stiles by the waist and tugs so he falls into Derek’s arms again and he cuts him off with a kiss.   
  
***  
  
The End


End file.
